


A Reunion Between the Sheets

by ioascc



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Disregarding Parts of 15.20, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Post canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29451900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioascc/pseuds/ioascc
Summary: Every night, Dean lies down on his memory foam mattress and dreams. He dreams of park benches, of children swinging, and most importantly… Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77
Collections: Profound Bond Gift Exchange: Reunion





	A Reunion Between the Sheets

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phantomwritingbooth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomwritingbooth/gifts).



> Darlin’, you said loved canon or AU… but that you especially love domestic moments in the bunker. You said to give you the old married couple vibe, and like you… I love domestic Destiel. I hope this delivers.

It had been a long exhausting hunt full of close calls and heightened emotions. Too long a hunt and Dean… Dean was getting too old to be chasing down some old case that his father had never wrapped up about crazy vampire mimes from almost two decades ago. That was all fine and dandy when he was twenty-six and didn’t think vampires were real but now? No. He had just defeated Chuck. His kid had become the new God. He… he had lost his best friend. He was getting too old for this kind of bullshit case.

For Christ’s sake… Dean had almost gotten impaled by a rogue rebar! (And who the fuck leaves rebar in the open like that in a barn where animals live?) Luckily, he was a seasoned hunter and had top notch situational awareness because otherwise… yeah, Ha! He would have been one for the funeral pyre. All of Cas’ sacrifice would have meant nothing if he’d up and died a few months later. And oh God, or Jack now, he did not want to die after just gaining his damn freedom.

“I’m so ready for my own bed. Motel beds aren’t what they use to be,” Dean groaned, putting his bag down on the map table and stretching out his back, hearing the satisfying pop of his spine.

“Gettin’ old,” Sam teased doing his own stretches.

“Hunting isn’t what it used to be, my ass gets numb after a six-hour drive,” Dean admits, letting out a sigh, “Maybe it’s time we hang it up? Become a Bobby or Rufus or it seriously pains me to say this… Garth. I’m forty-two, man and let’s face it… getting thrown across a barn is not my idea of a good time on a Saturday night.”

Sam’s long face just stares at him calmly across the room, not betraying any emotion but Dean knows his brother… knows that his wheels are turning. He hasn’t told Sam about the resume sitting on his desk, but he reaches down and pets Miracle, his fingers carding through his wheat-colored fur. A heavy silence fills the room between them, weighty and quiet. The buzzing of the bunker itself whirls on in the background. The industrial HVAC unit is hissing as it floods their home with the recycled air.

“Yeah,” Sam states and seems like he’s agreeing with his thoughts, “Yeah, it’s time to retire.”

Dean nods and claps, “Good, I’ve got a much-needed reunion with my bed and someone on one time with my sheets.”

He hauls his bag up and whistles for Miracle to follow him, intent on spending the rest of the night in deep, restful slumber.

Dean sleeps deeply these days, always for more than four hours, and like every night since he lost him, he dreams of Cas. It’s always the two of them at the park, sitting on the bench, side by side this time instead of a chasm of space between them, they are pressed together, his thigh and knee so close to Cas’ own. In this dream world, he talks to Cas.

“I miss you,” Dean says quietly, staring at the child he dreamed up on the swing. The child pumps his legs higher and higher, the metal chains whistling in the wind and creaking at the kid's efforts. He can speak freely in his dreams, his thoughts are honest with the knowledge that Cas isn’t real and this is his subconscious dreaming up an image of Cas to soothe Dean’s deep loneliness. Every few nights he tells Cas this, knowing that Cas’ response will be the same.

“I know, Dean, I sense your longing,” Cas replies serenely. Unlike his suited and trench-coated Cas, the Cas that saved him, the Cas that confessed his love, this Cas is dressed in casual Winchester attire. Three layers of unnecessary clothing, he even has one of Dean’s soft green flannels draped open with one of Dean’s old blue khaki jackets. His hair is wild, like the early days, less like Jack’s Dad and more like Angel of the Lord.

“I don’t… I don’t know how to be without you,” admits Dean, rolling his lips between his teeth and biting them to distract him from the emotion gathering in his eyes.

“You seem to be doing fine,” states Cas, a serene smile on his face as he watches a toddler pick flowers, hold them out to his mother and then throw them away on the ground instead.

“No, no. I’m not, I’m hanging in there,” Dean admits, “I convinced Sammy to retire because I just… I just can’t go out hunting and expecting you to pop up around every corner.”

“I’m not around the corner, Dean,” Cas sighs.

“I know that,” Dean exasperates, his molars grinding. He drops his head down in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. “I know that,” he says more quietly.

Cas doesn’t speak again, but he does place a comforting hand on Dean’s back. Hot and heavy, the touch sinks into Dean’s skin.

When Dean wakes, he convinces himself that he can still feel the touch.

Dean gets a job with a local mechanic in Lebanon, the owner is entirely grateful to have an experienced mechanic at his disposal. He had taken one look at Baby and hired Dean on the spot. Slowly, Dean and Sam remolded the old power plant into sleek apartments. The big windows lending an airy look and the old wooden floors creating warmth that contrasts with the industrial bones. Dean enjoys living above ground, content in the knowledge that his other home is beneath their feet. He also likes having an apartment all to himself, the experience of decorating to suit his tastes and being able to stand at his fridge butt ass naked will never lose its appeal.

In a short time they’ve settled into a domestic routine. Sam spends his days setting up a network that rivals the British Men of Letters and Dean gets out and works to support their daily needs so they don’t abuse Charlie’s magical credit card. They do laundry, make breakfast, and on the days Dean doesn’t work at the garage, they both go down into the bunker and work the phones and do research.

A year has passed, the time has both moved slowly and sped along, and Dean still dreams of Castiel, still tells his angel that he misses him. Castiel always responds that he knows and that he feels Dean’s longing. Dean feels like the dreams are going to send him slowly devolving madness. Even taking sleeping aids, and a bottle of Johnny Walker, he still dreams of the two of them sitting on the bench.

Tonight, Dean presses closer into Dream Cas, leaning into him the way he never would in reality. Touching him at the nape of his neck, the shell of his ear, the gentle swell of his lips. With his fingertips, Dean outlines the curve of his eyebrows and the lines around his eyes. The lines are relatively new, his angel has been aging before his eyes but Dean chose never to see it. To Dean, Castiel was always eternal, a constant in his life.

“Do you hurt in the Empty?” Dean whispers, fingertips trailing down parted lips over Castiel’s scruff and Dean drops his hand. The swings sway gently in the breeze squeaking, the wind ruffles Cas’ wild hair and brings by the scent of sweet jasmine flowers.

“No, no there is no pain or anything in the Empty,” Cas answers, “But that doesn’t matter now, I’m with you right now.”

“No, you aren’t.” Castiel isn’t with him. Not in the mornings or at nights when Dean desperately misses him. He’s not sitting at his counter drinking coffee in the morning, a smile on his face and a whispered ‘Good morning’ on his lips. Cas isn’t in his bed at night when he lays down. There is no one to fall asleep to. He’s alone. He’ll continue to be alone.

“Dean-”

“No Cas, I know this is all in my mind. I know you're gone. I don’t even know why I bother asking,” Dean angrily bites out interrupting Cas, “I’m going crazy. I can’t do this anymore.” Getting up, and storming away from the bench the dream ends, but he can still hear Cas calling for him.

“Dean!”

Waking up, he curls around Miracle. Taking a moment of comfort and to feel a little sorry for himself before he gets up and starts his day.

Dean is getting tired of these dreams. He can feel his desperation mounting. In his spare time, whenever Sam goes off and visits Eileen or whatever his brother does, he looks into the Empty on the sly. How he could free Castiel from it without costing him his life, Cas would be furious if Dean jeopardized his life. But he keeps coming up… well, empty… and every night is bittersweet torture.

He misses his best friend. It’s like a part of him has been ripped out of his chest. He doesn’t look too far into this deep ache, because then he’ll have to examine his feelings fully and he does not want to unpack that. Not without Cas. What’s the point of having a big sexuality crisis when the object of said crisis is trapped in Super Hell?

“I’ve got a case,” Sam states one day, looking uncomfortable.

“What?”

“A case, there is no one else to cover it. Everybody is busy in their zones and we are the closest ones,” Sam explains, fiddling with the top of his computer.

“Sam.”

“Dean, it’s a milk run,” Sam pleads, “I just don’t think it’s smart to go alone. A revenant is haunting a hospital. It’s a mother who died in childbirth, she appears every year on the day her baby was born and just hangs out in the nursery. She’s not violent, but we could help her move on. She just… rocks the babies and cares for them, tries to nurse them.”

“Jesus, Sammy!” Dean exclaims, clearing the emotion from his throat, “Could you have picked a sadder case?”

“Uh, no,” Sam laughs dryly, “I guess I couldn’t even if I tried.”

“Where?”

“Omaha,” Sam smiles, “Three hours and some change.”

“Well, thank Jack for small favors,” Dean grumbles, “I’ll go pack a bag.”

The case was depressing, so fucking depressing. He ended up sitting at the revenant’s feet in the nursery rocking chair, tears running down his cheeks, explaining to a ghost that she was dead. Gone. Her child was dead and gone and that she could move on. She couldn’t understand, wouldn’t understand Dean's soft whispers even after they pulled pictures from her life and let her flip through them. She had stared out at the nursery so confused, so lost as if seeing all those babies had made it worse. They had to bring her to her own grave and the grave of her grown child for it to sink in.

It was emotionally exhausting and Dean just grunts a ‘see ya later’ at Sammy unhappily while making a beeline for his apartment. He is thinking about taking a nap and hoping that Cas won’t appear in his dreams. He needs a break from emotions altogether and he’s pretty sure if Cas appears in his dreams then Dean is going to bawl like a baby. He just can’t.

He lets out a silent prayer to Jack, letting his kiddo know that he’s exhausted and needs a break. To please spare him of this dream and let Castiel be free. Dean knows Jack won’t answer his prayers but… It’s been over a year since Cas saved him and he’s been dreaming of him every night and Dean can’t take it anymore. He’s going to go One flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest mixed with The Shining. Even if the dreams only last seconds, almost like Cas is just checking in with him, Dean wants to rail and scream at the unfairness. He loves and hates seeing Cas every night, the longing is starting to choke him.

Toeing off his boots at his entryway organizer, he drops his bag down on the bench and removes his jacket slowly. Grunting and feeling every movement in his bones. He’s tired. Miracle sits and watches him, happily wagging her tail. His little companion gives him a lot of joy these days.

“Want a treat, buddy?”

Miracle perks up her ears and trots towards the kitchen. Entering the kitchen, he goes to flick the light on but is surprised it’s already on. He’s even more surprised to see Jack sitting at his kitchen bar, chomping away on his cookie cereal with a goofy smile on his face. Cas sitting next to him, dressed exactly like in his dreams.

“Sammy!” He calls over his shoulder, loudly, enough for Sam to hear him in his own apartment.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas stands and pulls on the flannel awkwardly like he isn’t quite comfortable with himself.

Dean can’t speak, his voice cracking and wavering and his lips trembling. He crosses the room quickly and pulls Cas into a crushing hug. Every inch of him pressed into Cas. Dean does end up crying, silent tears trekking down his cheeks.

“Don’t leave me again,” Dean pleads into Cas’ neck, quiet, so quiet and broken that only Cas can hear him.

“I won’t,” Cas’ response is barely audible, and Dean mostly feels it pressed up against his own chest than anything.

When Sam arrives, he learns Cas is human now and that he’s been fixing heaven, purgatory, the empty, even hell with Jack for the past year. Dean can’t talk much, still, so shocked that Cas is here and not in his dreams. Occasionally, he reaches out and just touches Cas’ sleeve. Fingers fiddling with his old blue jacket. Cas is actually wearing his clothes, that’s a new one for Dean, but it suits Cas. Being alive suits Cas.

“Are you staying?” Sam asks Jack, they haven’t moved from the kitchen.

“No, I’ve still got some work to do in Purgatory,” Jack states, “But I’ll be back to visit soon.” Jack smiles at Cas and then in a blink, is gone.

Turning to Cas, Dean reaches out and touches his jacket again. Touching, making sure he’s real. He notices Sammy doesn’t comment about Cas’ attire or Dean’s needy touches. He can’t believe Cas is here… in his apartment and not sitting on some friggin’ bench.

“Pizza? Beer? The local pizzeria is finally brave enough to deliver out here,” Dean asks and when Castiel responds that would be fine and that he hasn’t truly tasted a beer since he was human. Dean promptly gets one for him and opens it. Watching Cas take a sip and smile lopsidedly and talk with Sam about the work they’ve done, Dean feels the sick twisting guilt of Cas being human again. Fear rushes through him so acutely that it takes his breath away.

“Why are you human?” Dean bursts out, panicked.

“I wanted to be,” Castiel responds reasonably.

“Why?”

“With Jack in heaven, I wanted to experience humanity once again,” Castiel explains, eyes flicking over Dean’s panicky expression.

Nodding accepting the answer for now, Dean fiddles with his phone and finally punches out the number to call for pizza. He orders two, one meat and one veggie. Sam and Cas talk, laugh, they all drink beers and eat pizza… but Dean can’t quite bring himself to participate fully. He’s too busy remembering the tears filling in Cas’ eyes, the trail of them down his right cheek, the sad smile of acceptance and of joy.

The one thing I want… it’s something I know I can’t have…

But now, he can. They can.

It’s late into the night when Sam leaves to go back to his own apartment. Dean’s words are buzzing on his tongue, filling his mouth like angry bees, and he corners Cas as he’s stacking the empty pizza boxes together in the kitchen to take out the trash. Their eyes meet, and silence descends between the two of them. Not comfortable silence either, this is nothing like when they’d drive around with no music on with only the hum of the Impala between them. No-no, this is frustrated, weighty, silence that bites at Dean’s skin.

“You’re human,” Dean growls, his words sharp, the angry buzzing escaping. “After everything, Jack could have restored you-given you back your wings and you chose this? Haven’t you given enough? Sacrificed enough?”

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Don’t make this about me,” Dean barks out, his voice echoing off the walls.

“But it is.”

Dean stops, taking in large breaths. He knows this about him. Dean knows this is about feeling love and freaking peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He never thought the angel was capable of loving him. Just like he couldn’t taste those PB and J’s. For years, Dean has carried these emotions, those feelings, heavy in his chest for Cas… and the whole time the angel felt the same way.

Cas looks so patient, so much like the Cas who saved him that it makes Dean’s chest ache acutely. “Your soul, you Dean, and your longing… even if I wanted to sleep in the Empty, I wouldn’t be able to.”

“So what? Because I missed you, wanted my best friend back, you’re here?”

“Yes, time moves differently in heaven, I came as soon as I could,” Cas replies, “I thought visiting your dreams would help and it wasn’t till the last dream that you seemed truly disturbed.”

“What the fuck, Cas,” Dean shouts, uncaring if Sam hears him. He hasn’t told Sam anything, refuses to tell Sam anything. But he rails against Cas, his words angry on his lips, devastated, “It was actually you visiting my dreams? Why the ever-loving fuck did you think that was ok? After everything? Telling you loved me, sacrificing yourself for me… up and leaving me again!?”

“I wanted you to live, I wanted you to defeat Chuck and live,” Cas replies, his voice sharp, matching Dean’s tone.

“So you were going to accept your fate? Rot in the Empty?”

“Yes! If it meant that you were able to fight another day, I gladly accepted it,” Cas shouts back, human emotions overwhelming him and his face ruddy from anger.

“I don’t!” Dean yells, “I don’t accept it! You can’t just tell me you love me and then leave! What should I have done at that moment? Huh? Cas? And fuck… those dreams! Every night for the past year!?”

Dean can see the rise and fall of Cas’ chest, each inhalation and exhalation is noisy and his nose whistles. It’s so very human that it makes Dean want to rage all over again, but strangely this time… it does the opposite and takes the wind out of his sails. Cas is human and he chose to be and it’s so, so heartbreaking.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now does it? Jack saved me, we restored heaven, and now I’m actually here. You don’t have to torture yourself over it anymore. I’m here with you,” Cas finally states after several minutes of silence.

“Yeah. You are here now… but you make these decisions. Stupid knee-jerk decisions and you leave me. Every time,” Dean states, his voice descends a register and becomes more broken.

“Well,” Cas sighs, looking as exhausted as Dean feels, “I can only atone for my past and do my best to not leave you again.”

Rolling his lips between his teeth and wetting them, Dean nods. Crossing his arms and then scrubbing his jaw with the heel of his hand. He’ll leave it for the night. He doesn’t have the will to fight anymore.

Dean never truly lets it go. He stays on edge and they bicker. They don’t talk about it again. But, Oh praise be Jack, do they bicker and about everything else. How to fold towels, how to load the dishwasher, how to properly cook chicken. It’s maddening, they never bickered this much before… yeah, sure they were a bit testy towards each other and they’d lash out at each other. But there was always a “Big Bad” lurking around the corner and their arguments would be buried and they’d move on.

Now, there is no moving on. They live together, Cas taking up residence in his guest bedroom. They drive to work together, Cas is now working at a small and quaint nursery farm down the road from the garage. There is no escaping each other.

There is just an empty dirty coffee cup next to the sink and not in the dishwasher.

“Cas,” Dean calls, and the other man pops his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush in one hand.

“Yeah?”

“What’s with the coffee cup, man? You lose strength in your arms to put a mug into the dishwasher?” Dean barks pointing to the offending cup. Cas eyes flick to it and then back up to Dean’s face.

“No, I’m saving it for later,” Cas replies slowly.

“Why? We have a billion more mugs, just put that one into the dishwasher,” Dean replies testily.

“Why dirty another mug when I can rinse that one out and use it when I make coffee later?” Cas responds.

“Cas,” Dean drawls and warns, looking heavenward.

“Dean.”

“Just put the damn coffee cup in the dishwasher and get another one,” Dean growls.

“Why?”

“Because I said so,” Dean grinds out, his molars mashing. He’s not angling for a fight, they are due to be downstairs any moment to help Sam research a case that Claire and Kaia are working.

“I don’t have to do everything you say, you ass,” Cas mutters thinking Dean can’t hear him, and Dean can hear the slam of the drawer where they keep their toothbrushes. Dean’s socked feet don’t make heavy thuds on the wood floor, but he moves fast and he’s in Cas’ face before the other man expects.

“Wanna say that again?” Dean asks, chest to chest with Cas. He looks down his nose at Cas, who looks back at him with steely determination. Their height difference used to be so minimal when Cas was buzzing with grace, now it feels like a chasm.

“I said, I don’t have to do everything you say, you ass.”

Reactive, Dean slams Cas into the hallway and does something he never thought he’d ever have the courage to do… he smashes their lips together. A volatile mixture of wanting Cas to shut up and just pure wanting Cas, Dean’s anger fuels the kiss. Provoking, devouring, tongue rolling, teeth nibbling, bruising kiss. Cas tastes overwhelmingly like their toothpaste and still Dean devours like he cannot get enough.

Cas fists the back of his hair, grown out since Dean’s stopped hunting, and with fingers twisted in the strands he directs Dean’s head to exactly where he wants him. Their hands pull on each other, grasping and desperate. Cas walks Dean backwards to his room, shoving Dean down onto his bed.

He’s quick to blanket Dean with his body, continuing the bruising kiss. Pulling on Dean’s clothes, they practically strangle each other trying to get their clothes off. Heated and rushed, with socks still hanging off his feet, Dean shoves a dry hand down into Cas’ boxer briefs and jacks his cock slowly. Dean watches the flickers of arousal and listens to Cas’ deep moans.

“Dean,” Cas moans and oh fuck, hearing Cas moan is like a bolt of lightning down his body to make his dick twitch. Yanking his boxers off along with Cas’, Dean scrambles for the lube in his drawer and with trembling hands he pours a generous amount into his palm. Capturing both of their dicks together, Dean pumps them both slowly. Their kisses have slowed, less desperate but not in the least bit incendiary. On their sides, Cas’ hands roam and massage Dean’s ass and continue to card through his hair.

“Dean,” Cas moans again against his lips and Dean lets out a little huff of amusement.

“I know, I know,” Dean chants, undulating his hips up against Cas’ fucking his fist against Cas’ cock.

They moan and thrust, torturing themselves and ramping up the shared euphoria. Cas continues to chant his name, broken and pleading. Dean drinks in the pleas, swallowing them down as they pass his lips.

“Close?” Dean questions, feeling the rise of his own release tingling.

“Yes, oh Dean,” Cas cries as his hips stutter and Dean presses their lips together. Desperate to kiss Cas while he comes Dean feels the warmth on his hand and at his navel, and is quick to follow. He erupts, still kissing Cas.

Aftershocks shiver through their bodies, making Dean laugh against Cas’ lips. Sticky, pressing against each other, Dean nuzzles against Cas’ sweaty neck. Pressing a soft kiss there, he listens to their breathing slow.

“I…” Cas starts and stops, peering up at Dean, eyes blue as the sky eyes tentatively holding Dean’s own green one in his gaze, “I’ll put my dirty mugs away.”

“That’s all I ask, man,” Dean whispers, holding onto Cas a little tighter and placing a kiss on his shoulder.

They fall into a weird pattern after that. Any time they fight, they instantly have passionate but borderline angry sex. It’s really intense, but for the past twelve years… they’ve been intense and so it sort of makes sense. Dean doesn’t question it, not really, he enjoys getting off too much and they’ll snuggle afterwards. Cas will hold him and place kisses wherever he can reach and that… that sometimes feels better than the orgasm Dean has just experienced.

It only gets awkward when they fight in the bunker.

They had a nasty argument in the kitchen, something about whether the case they were working on was a ruguru or werewolf or some bullshit, resulting in Dean dropping to his knees and sucking Cas’ dick to shut him up. Cas was fucking his face, practically curling around Dean, gasping and moaning like he was dying man getting his last blow job when Sam and Eileen inadvertently walked in. There was yelping and cursing and teeth involved and Dean has never heard Cas swear so violently.

Sam was forced to lay down some laws about public indecency in the bunker. All activity was relocated to the bedroom. No excuses.

Sam’s insistence and rules force another change… every night, they go to bed together. Curling around each other. Most of the time, they do engage in some sort of sexual activity. Cas likes blow jobs, giving and receiving, so much that Dean starts stocking bottles of water and cough drops in the bottom of their nightstand. Dean prefers good ol’ frottage, he likes kissing Cas and being able to work his hand over them both at the same time. He likes rolling Cas’ balls in his hand and watching the other man squirm.

Either way, the fighting peters out and the angry sex stops because they are forced to their bedroom… and it just leaves them in their bed every night limbs tangled, getting off and moaning each other’s names.

“Do you want to engage in anal sex?” Cas asks him one night, while his hand is wrapped around Dean’s dick and his lips pressing a sweet kiss to the head.

“Uh? I dunno,” Dean gasps, when Cas’ tongue flicks out and teases his slit.

“I'll be amenable to being the “bottom” first,” Cas’ air quotes are not motioned but Dean can see them all the same, “I bought Astroglide and Preparation H for afterward if there is any soreness.”

Letting out a startled laugh, because Cas continues to place sweet kisses on his dick, Dean gives him a distracted answer, “Nothing is sexier than ass ointment.”

Cas swallows Dean’s dick back down and hums, making Dean’s eyes cross in pleasure. He feels a lubed finger tease his hole, so he widens his legs further and thrusts his hips up into Cas’ mouth. Cas swirls and pumps his lips down Dean noisily, knowing how much Dean gets off on hearing him.

“What do you say? You? Me?” Cas asks after slurping and moaning around Dean’s dick. He’s putting pressure on Dean’s hole and it feels pretty incredible.

“Me, I guess,” Dean states and nods eagerly, when Cas’ finger dips in, “Definitely me, you think you can find my fun button?”

“I rebuilt you,” Cas whispers kissing Dean’s thigh and Dean feels the pressure of his finger entering him, “I definitely know where your prostate is.” With that cocky statement, Cas runs a teasing finger across it and Dean sees stars. Toes curling he lets out another funny little huff of air, Cas stealing his breath with every movement.

Mouth dropping open, Dean squirms and chases the orgasmic wave that’s cresting in his gut. Cas fingers twist and pump, opening Dean up in a tantalizing way. When he’s ready, Cas continues his onslaught making Dean’s thighs shake.

“Stop, man,” Dean moans and shifts, pushing Cas’ hands away, “I don’t wanna come yet.”

“Of course, Dean.” Cas replies in a soft voice. Wiping his hands on the sheet nonchalantly and seeming so unaffected that Dean wants to wipe that smug look off of his face.

“I can leave, go take care of myself,” Dean threatens, his eyes squinting in displeasure.

“That won’t be necessary,” Cas states, grabbing the lube and coating himself in the viscous liquid. The squelching sound that fills the air mocks Dean, “I plan on taking very good care of you.”

Rubbing the head of his cock against Dean’s own, the tease has the audacity to wink at Dean before hauling his legs up and placing them on his shoulders. Ever so slowly, Cas presses his cock past the rings of muscle into Dean’s heat. Stilling, Cas kisses the meat of Dean’s calf allowing Dean time to adjust.

“Different,” Dean grunts and Cas nods in agreement, his other hand working over his body and touching him sweetly. In this position, Dean can’t really do much, but he enjoys the slow drag of Cas’ thrusts. When Cas drops his legs and kisses him, Dean is quick to wrap his legs around Cas’ waist.

Rolling their hips together, Cas presses his chest against Dean’s to whisper against Dean’s lips, “So good.”

“Yeah,” carding his fingers through Cas’ soft hair Dean brings his face closer, his body closer, his cock deeper within Dean. Breaths intermingling, kissing distractedly, the two men pet and praise each other. This joining is more quiet, more pure than anything before. With Cas dragging across his prostate, Dean holds on and chases the sweet rise of pleasure within. The friction of his cock trapped between their bodies heightens every slow thrust.

With a soft moan, Dean comes, shivering and shaking and clutching on Cas’ shoulder with his hand still buried in the back of his hair. He feels Cas’ climax, as he leaves almost tortured moans against Dean’s lips. He swallows them down. They trade lazy affectionate kisses until Cas’ dick softens and slips out of him. Feeling the trickle of cum slide past his butt cheeks, Dean grimaces.

“Well, that’s gross,” he complains more to himself, Cas grunts into the meat of his neck. The man is completely boneless, spread across him, tacky skin sticking together. Dean traces the knobs of his spine, tickling the other man.

“It was good.” Cas laughs, swatting Dean’s hand away from tickling his sides. He snuggles back into Dean, letting out pleased happy noises.

“Yeah, well… we need to shower. I’m leaking jizz all over our bed. We are going to have to change the sheets,” Dean sighs as Cas snuffles deeper into his neck, Cas is a major cuddler after anything physical. It’s endearing and a rise of affection and love rises in Dean’s chest. Letting out a huff of a laugh, he kisses Cas’ temple. “I love you too, you know?”

“I know, sweetheart. I’ve always known.”

They lie together, limbs tangled, skin cooling in their bed, in between their sheets. Dean’s arms wrapped around Castiel.

-fin


End file.
